


The First Pride

by CameronBlacksReads



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Gay Pride, Gen, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pride, Queer Castiel (Supernatural), some trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24577579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CameronBlacksReads/pseuds/CameronBlacksReads
Summary: Dean never had a good experience with the gay community, and between his homophobic dad and the hunter lifestyle, that wasn't out of the ordinary. But maybe this pride would change things for Dean.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Destiel
Comments: 14
Kudos: 253





	The First Pride

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [In Your Own Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24531277) by [MalMuses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalMuses/pseuds/MalMuses). 



> I read a story by MalMuses called "In Your Own Time" and it inspired this fic because I'm feeling gay. I can't celebrate Pride this year cuz of the virus, so maybe I'll just make my boys do it for me. This is not very well written, and not at all thought out, but I hope you like it anyway.

The first time Dean heard about “the gays” he was ten. Dean remembered it fairly vividly, not because of the gay thing, but because it was the same night that Sammy finally started to figure out his math flashcards. He was only doing addition, and it's not like little six-year-old Sammy really knew the addition yet, but Dean saw the logic of it click in Sammy’s eyes. Dean could always remember the little things like that, when Sammy got something, because Sammy was always so proud of himself, and Dean was even more proud. 

But that's not the point. Right as Dean was explaining to Sammy that “there is more than one way to make ten,” John was having a very heated conversation with some other hunters. They had just gotten back, and Dean was trying his hardest to not throw himself at his dad’s feet and prove how good he was. Instead, Dean was being more subtle. Good boys help their younger brothers with school work, and surely his dad must realize that. Anyway, that was the only reason Dean wasn’t in the middle of the conversation.

But hunters are a loud breed, and they were talking about politics. Really, they were only talking politics because every hunter there had had at least four beers and the room reeked of the stuff. They were wasted and wanted to complain about something. So they did. Mostly, Dean didn’t understand what they were talking about, but he caught a couple of things. He heard the words “dirty” and “homo” and “fag,” but that was about it. 

Dean was ten, so of course he knew completely what all of those words meant. “Fag” and “homo” were things you did not want to be. You did not talk about those things, unless you were saying that you didn’t like them. So this was simply normal background noise for a slightly memorable day.

\------

When Dean was 17 (well 22, according to his I.D.) he was trying to prove to his dad that he could handle talking to witnesses. This witch was killing young, attractive people, and they couldn’t figure out why.

So Dean decided to go to a bar and ask around, see if anyone knew anything. Dean, being the clever kid that he was, accidentally went to the only gay bar in that tiny town.

He didn’t notice at first. He just thought that the owner hired a weird decorator who couldn’t pick a color palate to roll with and who liked glitter more than any person should. Dean didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, until he saw a boy barely older than himself, wearing nothing but obscenely short jean shorts. 

Dean just went with it because he was working, after all. He went to the bar, hoping to flirt with some ladies. He sat, ordered a beer from a guy (girl?) who was dressed in all black and had piercings all over his (her? their?) face, and who gave Dean a disapproving look at his drink order. Dean paid the bartender no mind and just waited for someone in the crowd to sit next to him.

The only person who did was a huge man, with well-defined muscles, and a beard for days. Dean made some awkward chit-chat with the guy until he had had enough beers to lose some of his inhibitions. Dean made an excuse to use the bathroom.

He was washing his hands and checking himself out (he looked hot, thank you very much), when the guy from the bar came in. Dean said a half-aborted greeting before the man threw him against the sink and attacked his mouth.

Now, Dean had had plenty of affairs in his short life, but he had never been kissed like this man kissed him. It was all tongues and teeth and hot breath that tasted like alcohol, and it was the best experience of his life. This man was power and dominance and sex incarnate, and Dean felt like he could have fallen in love right there.

They broke the kiss and just breathed in each other’s air. Dean could barely breathe, but this guy looked about as bothered as someone who had just gotten off the couch. Then, the man took his large, beefy hand and placed it on Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s knees started to bend before a panic sounding like the boys who said “that’s gay” and his father screaming “faggot” resounded in his head. Dean lost it. His palms started sweating and his ribs started suffocating his lungs and his tongue was twice its normal size for some reason. And someone was screaming. They were screaming these horrible words and part of Dean hated that person and part of him thought they were right.

It turns out that Dean was the one screaming, and he barely dogged the guy slapping him before he ran out of the bar. Dean didn’t sleep that night, and he just told his dad and brother that the bar was a dead end.

They never did solve that case. Dean never figured out why.

\------

There were many more instances like that throughout Dean’s life, but he mostly blocked them out. Dean was a man and a hunter at that, so he didn’t need to concern himself with things like sexuality or romance. 

It's not like he was never curious. He did some googling once or twice, trying to figure out what he was, and why he likes the things he does. But he never let himself call himself anything. Also, he basically gave up on romance after Lisa. If she couldn’t handle his life, then no one could.

But that’s not important.

\------

It was a disgustingly muggy summer day in Kansas and Dean was dying. Normally, Dean didn’t mind a little heat, but he did not like the heat and humidity combo. It made him feel like an animal and he hated it. It was eight o’clock in the morning and Dean was sweating like a whore in church. He was sitting in his room in the bunker trying to cool down, when Cas walked in the room.

“Hello Dean,” Cas began, as usual. 

“Hey Cas. What’s up buddy?” Dean asked.

Cas’ face had not changed at all, except for a tiny little microscopic wrinkle between his eyebrows, which told Dean that he was uncomfortable. Dean turned his full attention to Cas and waited for him to speak.

“There is an event in Kansas City today. I would like you to take me. I think we should go now.” Dean raised his eyebrows at Cas’ determined tone, but stood up all the same. He put on a plain grey tee shirt and jeans (Dean Winchester does not do shorts) and tied a flannel around his waist. Dean didn’t say anything, just walked out to baby and expected Cas to follow. 

Cas did just as Dean expected him to, and they both got in the car and left.

Another thing about the heat that Dean hated, was that it always made him feel bored. Like, it was too hot to wash baby or do anything really interesting. So the excuse to drive around with his best friend was a lot more appealing than sitting with his thoughts. 

“So,” Dean began once they were on the main road, away from the bunker, “what’s in KC? A bee convention?”

The corner of Cas’ lip twitched a little, and Dean knew that Cas liked it. Cas twisted his mouth in a way that told Dean that Cas was in a mood to be stubborn.

“I’m not telling,” was all Cas said as he crossed his arms over his chest in a way that was painfully human.

“You’re not telling me?” Dean asked, incredulous. “Then how will I know where to go?”

“I’ll direct you to a parking lot, and then we will walk.”

“We have to walk?”

“Yes, Dean. We will walk. Humans evolved to be bipeds and walk on two legs, so that’s what we are going to do. Walk.”

Dean gave the biggest eye roll he could muster and kept on driving. Cas put in the mix tape that Dean made him, that he always seemed to carry around everywhere. (Cas was also the only one besides Dean who could choose the music, but that is neither here nor there.)

They drove for a while. When they got to the outskirts of Kansas City, Cas started giving directions. Dean felt that they were arbitrary directions, like Cas was just taking him around. Eventually, Cas directed him to a parking lot, and Dean put baby in a corner (heh) as far away from all other cars as he could get. Cas got out with and started walking purposefully away. Dean locked the car and followed.

Cas walked out of the parking lot and down the street, never speaking once. They walked for just a bit, before they turned a corner and Dean felt the wind get knocked out of him.

There were fucking rainbows everywhere. Men in banana hammocks. Women with only pasties on. People in leather and fluffy outfits. There was so much glitter Dean felt like he was choking on it.

They walked into the most crowded part of what was evidently a pride parade. Cas was walking close enough to Dean that he could feel the heat of his body, but not so close that they were touching. Dean was just following Cas’ lead, too beside himself to make any decisions of his own.

Good lord, it was hot. There were so many goddamned people, so many colors, so much glitter. God, everything smelled like sweat and bodies. Normally that smell meant a hunt, but now Dean was just trying to convince his heart that nothing was trying to kill him. He was fine. There was no danger, no need to run, he was fine.

Cas was walking over to one of the booths, filled with colorful fabric that made Dean’s skin itch. Dean was following Cas, walking just a half-step behind him, when he was struck with the smell of stale beer. That, with the stench of bodies was not an unfamiliar smell, but for some reason it turned Dean’s stomach in the most unpleasant way. 

Cas was standing off to the side of the booth, looking at flags or something, when a man passed by Dean. It was the most casual gesture, but he pushed on the top of Dean’s shoulder in a way that had Dean’s knees shaking . If he didn’t feel like vomiting before, he sure as hell did now. 

Apparently he had stopped walking and Cas was calling his name, but all Dean could think of was his dad screaming at him. How dare Dean not have a date with a girl? Why did Dean like Harrson Ford so damn much? Was Dean a homo? A pussy? A faggot? 

“Dean. Dean. Dean!” Cas was screaming at him and Dean was hyperventilating. Jesus it was hot. There were so many people.

And then Dean was hotter but the world was brown and soft and smelled like the air before lightning and grass after it had rained. Cas was wrapping his arms around Dean, crushing Dean to his chest and stroking his hair. Dean shoved his nose into Cas’ shoulder and just tried to breathe, tried to not hear his dad anymore, tried to not hear the voices of hunters he knew from long ago, tried not to hear the voices of mean boys in the locker room. 

Eventually, Dean’s breathing became more regular, and the tears that he would deny having shed stopped flowing, and he was okay. He stayed like that for a moment longer than necessary, just breathing in the smell of Cas. After a while, he pulled himself away from Cas, ready to deal with whatever the hell that was.

“Dean?” was the only thing Cas said, eyes open and pleading. He just wanted to make sure Dean was okay, and that made him feel worse.

“Sorry, man,” Dean said, running his fingers over the back of his head, “I guess I had some sort of panic attack or something. Sorry to be such a bummer.” Dean was deflecting harder than he ever had before. This day was one for the books, for sure.

“Dean, it’s okay. Every person’s first pride can bring up different emotions. Would you like to talk about what is troubling you?” And, of course, Cas saw right through his bullshit.

“Nah, man. I think I just got overwhelmed with all the people. It's no biggie. Hey, why’d you wanna come here, anyway? Not that I don’t support… this,” Dean gestured wildly, “but I just thought, ya know, you aren’t human so this wouldn’t apply to you. Or whatever.” Eloquent, Winchester. 

Cas just gave his version of a grin and made no comment on Dean’s rambling. “I may not be human, but I pass as one. And, either way, I am living in the world as a human and I do not exactly conform to human standards of gender and sexuality. I am a genderless wave of celestial intent, and I feel attraction to all genders. I thought that, if I am living as a human, I may as well celebrate in the ways they do. Besides,” for the first time in Cas’ speech he looked away from Dean, “I thought you might enjoy it.”

Dean was baffled by this. How could Cas think he could enjoy this?

“Cas, I’m not… you know. I, uh, like chicks, man.”

“Dean,” Cas looked at him sympathetically, “it's okay. I know.”

Dean stood up then, pissed right the fuck off. “What the fuck do you mean ‘it’s okay’? What the fuck do you mean you know? You don’t know shit, Cas. You don’t know jack shit about me, or what I’ve been through, or who I am. You don’t know Cas!”

And people were looking now, and Cas was standing up and holding out his hands like he was trying to calm a spooked stallion. “Dean, stop. I did not mean to imply that I know what your experience has been. I just-”

“You just what, Cas? You don’t know how awful my dad was. You don’t know--. God, Cas you don’t know.” Dean was looking at Cas now, swept up in the depth of his eyes and all he could think of was blue and how much Cas simply did not know.

“What, Dean? What do I not know?” Dean couldn’t tell if that was fear or pity in Cas’ eyes, maybe it was both, but he decided he did not like it. 

“God, Cas, you don’t fucking know --” and then they were kissing because for some reason, that was the thing that made sense to Dean in this moment. Later Dean would question why, in the middle of a gay panic, he would decide that making out with his best friend, who is a dude, was the most logical thing to do, but right then it was. Dean unceremoniously crashed his lips into Cas’, and they were the best fucking things Dean had ever tasted.

Cas seemed like he didn’t understand what was happening at first. He just stood there, until Dean almost stopped slobbering all over Cas’ face, before he got with the program. Cas fisted Dean’s short hair, pulling until it hurt, and he was kissing him back. Cas’ tongue was in Dean’s mouth and his chest was pressed against Dean.

They pulled off after a few minutes, and there was some cheering from off to their left, which made Dean blush. He hid his face by burying it in Cas’ coat, when Cas said, “What don’t I know, Dean?”

“That I fucking love you, you big asshole.” Dean grinned and punched the shoulder that wasn’t currently hiding his face.

Cas was silent for a moment, but eventually he replied. “I knew, you dummy. I know, and I love you too.”

Dean pulled away, and looked at this man, this angel, in complete awe of how he was in Dean’s life. But he decided to ride this wave of maybe-a-little-bit-more-pleasasnt-than-nothingness that he was feeling and not overthink anything. He was just going to hold his angel’s hand and enjoy this parade.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos mean you win my friendship forever!


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